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The design directly above this message can now be seen and purchased on a wide variety of t-shirts, dresses and much more at the following linkHERE.

From one kid born in Louisville, Kentucky to another...

I had just created this, to let him know that He was, indeed, "The Greatest" in every respect...especially when it comes to being one of the greatest inspirations in my life.

Once again, Mr. Ali: thank you for your contributions. We will never be able to repay you.

The illustration in the piece above is pen and ink. That, along with all the digital text, design and concept work were all done by your's truly (2016 L. Llewellyn James/Alphaholics Non-Anonymous Art Studios. All Rights Reserved).

Incidentally, it had been done on June 4th, 2016, scant hours after Mr. Ali's passing...

This Illustration is based upon the voluptuous visage of one Ms. (or, at least, one can only hope to be still ably described as Ms.)Jennifer Hudson, a woman who had first been vaulted into the ever-spiraling tumult of societal fame as a result of suffering the indignity of being cast away from the selection process of that most noxious blight residing firmly in the firmament of mainstream Commercial television, "American Idol" ...only to go on to fame and actual measurable, worthy-to-be-noted acclaim as a sultry songstress and black woman siren of potency. Some may be aware of her garnering of a Best Supporting Actress Academy Award in 2007, for her work in the film adaptation of the musical "Dreamgirls".

Please, feel free to comment upon --or condemn in its entirety-- the work presented, herein.

In 1941, America was a nation subsisting with both the onus of racial separatism and discriminatory practices toward people of color and the sociological burdens of waging war in two major theaters of operation against Imperialist Japan and Nazi Germany.

In an effort to alleviate the strain being placed upon the ideological substance of the nation's well-being both from within and without, President Truman and Congress would pass legislation during World War II to address both a cumulative need for what would be known in our own present-day, Iraq-war era jargon as "military personnel stop-loss" and The United States' extreme sense of hypocrisy in criticizing the racially venomous teachings of "The Fuhrer" while still supporting a deeply segregated military apparatus of its own while attempting to fight against him and his Third Reich.

The new regulations governing the future recruiting perambulations of The United States Military would be dedicated to effectively easing the restrictions men and women of color faced, while attempting to join any branch of The U.S. Armed Services.

However, these treatises as espoused by America's Civilian leadership had not been welcomed with any enthusiasm by the still deeply segregation-adherent U.S. War Department and the vast majority of assorted military heads within it.

Thus, The U.S. Armed Forces would implement regulatory red-tape and assorted stratagems of contrivance which could only be described as draconian, purposefully designed to ensure people of color (and, most specifically, black men) would not be allowed admittance into service for the country.

However, in spite of these zealously unfair "G.I. Jim Crow" tactics, there were a large number of black men more than qualified to serve as fighter pilots for the U.S. Armed Services. However, as the military in the United States insisted on remaining "separate but equal", many of these applicants would become members of an all-black fighter squadron in The U.S. Army dubbed the 332nd Fighter Group, or the "Tuskegee Airmen" after the prestigious all-black technical university, Tuskegee Institute (wherein many of these applicants had, in fact, been trained as pilots, mechanics and other skilled vocational professionals).

During this tumultuous and calamity-addled period in American History, the powers of good and creation responsible for the foundation of peace and solemnity in this universe (as well as all others) peered down in distress and rage at the treatment suffered by men and women of color in a nation as proud and self-congratulatory as The United States.

Thus, in answer to the harried prayers of concerned black mothers and fathers, devout spiritualists and freedom fighters, wives, siblings and (most fearsomely and movingly) innocent children, the powers of Godliness and good were moved to take action for the benefit of these pioneers in military aviation and sociological history: the Godhead of This Universe sent one large, majestic mystic being of color to help defend the lives and the mission of the Tuskegee Airmen, whenever they found themselves routinely locked in battle against the scourge of Nazi German and Japanese doctrine as it manifested itself in the form of fighter pilots from those two nations attempting to eradicate the Tuskegee Airmen from the skies and battle-scorched cloud cover of World War II.

The name of this singular ethereal winged fairy-being was simply Mistress Odessa, and her clarion call of hope and victory for the Tuskegee Airmen could be heard as a thunderclap of omen and doom, whenever the Tuskegee Airmen successfully doused the engine fire of an enemy combatant in the daytime or night skies.

As a direct result of Mistress Odessa's efforts, the annals of American Military History record that The 332nd Fighter Group of the U.S. Army Corp enjoyed one of the most sterling ratios of success in escorting U.S. bomber planes to their respective destinations against the enemy...and, thus (reputably), the 332nd rarely lost a battle.

As a person of color from the Caribbean and a Sci-Fi Addict, I'm always dismayed at the lack of representation of black people in general -- as well as people of color from The Caribbean, specifically -- in Fantasy art and story-telling.We here at Alphaholics Non-Anonymous are vowing to seriously change ALL that...

Keep up with the upcoming exploits of General Jamaica, by following this website via Google , as well as visiting and liking our official Alphaholics Non-Anonymous Fanpage on Facebook at the following link: www.facebook.com/alphaholicsnonanonymous...

As we here at Alphaholics Non-Anonymous Art Studios continue to lament the lack of intriguing depictions of people of color as well as people of Caribbean descent in Fantasy/Comic Book or Science-Fiction Storytelling, we would like to humbly submit this new, Hispanic Superheroine for your approval.

The Puerto Rican Primera will actually include a great deal of historical discussion of Puerto Rico's involvement in great international ---and, dare we say INTERGALACTIC history---as Puerto Rico is the home of the largest Space-observing Radio Telescope in the world.

Support my effort to bring "The Puerto Rican Primera-AKA The Lightning-Limbed Latina" to life, as an animated series for children of color by clicking on the following link: https://www.gofundme.com/animateblackheros

Join us here for more adventures and illustrations chronicling the ongoing adventures of The Puerto Rican Primera by following this site via Google +, as well as visiting our official fanpage on Facebook at www.facebook.com/alphaholicsnonanonymous...

Soooo...as we here at Alphaholics Non-Anonymous Art Studios continue to plumb the depths of a new creative direction involving our attempts to create positive depictions of people of color from the Caribbean, We're just giving you this first glimpse of a Character that we would think will have a very VENGEFUL mindset (particularly when one thinks of what her home nation has endured over a terribly tumultuous 200 years since the singular triumphs of Toussaint L'ouverture, the legendary former slave, military tactician and strategist who defeated Napoleon Bonaparte and the might of the French Empire to win this young woman's home nation's freedom...)

As we here at Alphaholics Non-Anonymous Art Studios continue to burn the midnight oil while setting ablaze our own inner turmoil, we continue to vigorously obsess with fervent glee over a continuing project we've been working on.

Namely, this character is the newest addition to a bevy of curvaceous Superheroines of color, each of whom actively serve as the well-wrought representative of a nation in the Caribbean.

As we struggled to come up with a representative for the nation of The Dominican Republic (a nation which shares the Island of Hispanola with the Nation of Haiti), we began to think of a new twist---as members of the Caribbean are always obsessing with the idea of "repatriating" to decidedly greener pastures overseas and in other countries with better economies, isn't it only fitting that one of our superheroines be some sort of Immigration lawyer on steroids?

Then, we began to think a bit harder (which can always pose great danger to both ourselves here at ANAAS as well as the outlying world at large): what if she helped not just "illegal aliens" find their way through the miasma of red tape and bureaucracy which festoons the process of being a inhabitant of another nation which can offer better promise...but what if she would routinely be called upon to address the persecution of other types of ..."ALIENS"... seeking asylum from parts hitherto unknown?

...Hence, the word play indicative of this character being called "The Dominican Republic DEFENDER" (I.E. "Public Defender"...hence, a perpetually "pro bono" advocate for illegal aliens throughout The Caribbean as well as...throughout the Universe? Other Dimensions? You get the drift).

Help support my effort to bring "The Dominican Republic Defender" to life as an animated series depicting Superheroes of color as positive role models for children of color, by clicking the following link: https://www.gofundme.com/animateblackheros

Stay tuned to both this site as well as our official Facebook Fan page at www.facebook.com/alphaholicsnonanonymous, while we use this character to drift into some TRULY strange and unusual territory, wherein we will be upholding the laws of political asylum...while breaking the laws of physics...

Now, this is the latest teaser promo image of a new addition to a large team of Plus-Sized, Reubenesque Superheroines of African Descent from the Caribbean that we here at Alphaholics Non-Anonymous have just started toiling in the creation of within the last year.However, the backstory of this particular character is something that we've been brooding on for some time and actually underscores how far-reaching we plan on being with all of this: as this upcoming component of our series of Caribbean-borne superheroines focuses on the violent adventures of a former nightclub singer turned societal vigilante in 1950s era Pre-Castro Cuba, "La Cuidado De Cuba" is truly a period piece taking place in the harried final moments during the upheaval of the corrupt administration of Fulgencio Batista, the President of Cuba who would then be finally deposed by Fidel Castro and a guerrilla militia which had trained with Che Guevara...As we thought of where we wish to take this story in terms of theme and rhythm, we found ourselves working ardently to craft a story where the people will suffer dreadfully NO MATTER who is in charge, while the woman who will take to arms in a one-woman-battlecharge against BOTH Castro's lynchmen and Batista's armed thugs will shed a great deal of blood on many battlegrounds as she learns the true price of personal freedom in a small island wracked with significant cruelties.

Help Support my mission to bring "La Cuidado De Cuba" to life as an animated series discussing both Cuban history as well as depicting people of color in an honorable light, by clicking onto the following link: https://www.gofundme.com/animateblackherosKeep up with the upcoming exploits and dangerous bodycount of "La Cuidado De Cuba", by both following this site as well as visiting and liking our official FB fanpage at www.facebook.com/alphaholicsnonanonymous...

As the diseased representatives of spiritual darkness and evil who walk among us today who falsely represent themselves as “The Holy Ensigns and Servants of God” continue their destructive path to the realization of complete and cosmic blasphemy, they will prove themselves incapable of feeling empathy, credible morality or simple, non-lecherous sensuality.

Of course, these men and women of merciless demeanor coupled with crude, mystic aspirations are busily crafting artificial servants and anthropomorphic slaves, designed to fulfill their every malicious, self-absorbed desire and whim.While these lunatics, sorcerers, con-artists and duplicitous scoundrels that many of you refer to as your very own “community leaders”, “elected representatives”, “religious elders” and “loving parents” confer with one another to enslave the entirety of humanity while cavalierly marauding your civil and financial liberties, this self-same group of self-appointed arbiters of fairness are holding rituals in the basements of your homes. Your worship centers. Your banking institutions. The places where you have all placed your hopes for your future lives.Your civic leaders have now appropriated the genetic constructs of your lives that all of humanity of the 21st century have all blithely allowed them to traffic wholesale on the modern open market, and combined your genetic codes with the archaic, long-forgotten Creature-creating alchemy practiced by deranged outcasts of the Jewish, Islamic, Buddhist and Celtic religious traditions (but to name a few).In ceremonies and cultish rites of passage involving the sacrifice of the bodies of doe-eyed, pre-adolescent innocence that harried parents report annually as “missing”, brave freedom fighters many of you wave aside as “foolish” and other piecemeal unfortunates that the elite amongst us refute as “expendable”, a new slave trade is being born.These faceless, amorphous beings are but a rank approximation of humanity: their frailties are mental incapacitation, while their strength in our own 21st century will lie in their numbers and their physical girth and unstoppable brutality.The upper-echelon of the establishment doesn’t wish to enslave human beings born from the womb any longer. Even when performing duties in a capacity of paid “indentured servitude”, humankind often presents an aversion to drudgery, thankless labor and hostile emotional detritus that the ruling class of the new millennium finds all but…noxious.These creatures will be created for the purpose of fulfilling every secret desire that the patrician class who runs the lives of the average citizen desperately desires to indulge outright while keeping enshrouded in some semblance of secrecy: even as their minds will be a flat-land of consciousness within which the ruling class will plant the seeds for a forest of emotional apathy, their bodies will be a handsome banquet for potent plenty that the elite will plan to leave barren, upon proper indoctrination.Watch this one run. She has been led to believe that the road to freedom is but a chase through the desert of her own psyche, and her own fleet-footed steps will prove as swift and certain as Mercury.In fact, she is but an apparition in a computer program, serving as the unwitting accomplice in her own program of indoctrination-before-insertion…specifically, insertion into a well-honed, voluptuous beyond compare body.She will fail in her quest for “freedom”, which will result in the draining of her life essence from the majority of her body…leaving her hands a grim, pallid hue of rage that will not be quelled.She will see any individual who attempts to free her from the constraints of her world of enslavement as an unalloyed enemy. Her body will be tense at the mere thought of escape, after being pushed through a program wherein her still disembodied consciousness has been drilled to believe that freedom is the illusion, and only slavery is her reward.That program is powered by all of us: the working, the tired, the slavering, the unstable and the restless. The man and woman reading these words. The information pursuit that has left so many of you in even greater darkness than when you began. The silence that you all venture into, when you comment on this image. She is just the ghost in this machine. However, the real slave is the free-thinking “user” who allows the machine to render him and her a slave in the real world.Abandon all hope, all ye who will continue to press “enter” here…

A) Some people are unable to free themselves in a positive or uplifting way from the humdrum and everyday of this life without first donning a MASK...

or B) Halloween only comes but once a year.

Well, for what it's worth, I hope all of you happy havoc-wreakers had a safe return from Halloween, 2013...

However, THIS illustrator opted to stay home, whiling away the hours watching films running a full gamut as varied as "Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou" to "Rashomon" that night...and (in all likelihood) every other All hollow's eve thereafter, far into the foreseeable future...

Somewhere within the now-difficult-to-explore, vaulted corridors of the mass history of the Colonial Slave Trade of Africans in the New World, Caribbean Military Myth, Anglo-Saxon intrigue and the legends of Jamaican Folklore resides one of the single most explosive tales in the entire lexicon of African heroism in bondage: this tapestry of myth and reality is known popularly in Jamaican culture as Queen Nanny of the Maroons.

Reputed to have been a mighty military strategist and sorceress in her native Ghana, the fierce warrior woman depicted here had been brought to the new world while in the shackles of dehumanizing woe, after having been thrust from her rightful place as a regent and commander of great armies of African might by the white capitalist zeal of slave-masters and military generals with no compulsion, compassion or common decency toward any man or woman of color.

However, as she found herself walking in forcible servitude in an 18th Century Jamaica now fully wracked with consistent rumblings of slave rebellion, this Nubian-black warrior princess would find herself called upon again to enact her majestic powers of divination and fearsome military prowess (emulative and, no doubt, directly influenced by the long legacy of black military geniuses such as Hannibal and the Zulu nations of Western Africa) in the service of a new impetus: freedom and unfettered emancipation from British Colonial rule, on shores and island principalities all but foreign and alien to her own people.

Nevertheless, according to the hallowed legends of her life, this 18th century, fist-to-cuff freedom fighter would go on to prove not just merely a shrewd combatant against the British, but also a feared and revered mystic siren reputed to wield control over life and death itself as she melded the ancient ways of the far-flung African homeland with the new fighting implements of her racist, British Colonial captors.

In fact, Nanny has gone on to enjoy a sort of spectral beatification to this day in the Caribbean as a result of her reputation as a visionary, hand-to-hand combat saint: Nanny would be made sole, matriarchal head of the now-indigenous Maroon Tribe of Jamaica as she would prove successful in leading the African slaves of Jamaica in warding off the advances of the befuddled, technologically superior forces of the English Crown of the time, laughing to scorn the alleged primacy of White racist dictate while mauling Britain’s best trained soldiers in battle, all while valiantly holding aloft her majestic African staff of power with one clenched fist of feminine fury.

As your ever-exhausted, ever-courteous scribe and society
columnist of the arts, the ritz, the glamour, the power and the impostors
attempting to emulate it all here in Gotham City continues to keep you abreast
of the latest sizzling gossip and malignant amoral skulduggery festering within
the vaulted upper echelons of the power elite in our bedraggled metropolitan
area, I find myself at a loss for words...well, almost...in the face of the
latest abominable act of
self-aggrandizement-masquerading-as-philanthropic-enterprise committed by none
other than Gotham City's most egregious and egalitarian usurper of family trust
funds and even more less-well-guarded undercurrents of sleazy women's
undergarments...the inimitable (and excruciating) Bruce Wayne.

As the legendary multi-billionaire buffoon, walking
misogynistic neanderthal and vile receptacle containing blue blood, bad hygiene
and poor grammatical and ideological syntax that I can only laughingly call
"Mr. Wayne" created and hosted a large, ornate costumed ball
yesterday evening at his newly-remodeled Wayne Manor residence on the outskirts
of Gotham for Halloween, 2013, the pomposity of this dithering maniac with a
penchant for chasing skirts, wasting his inherited dime and (no doubt) inhaling
no small modicum of illicit substances into every conceivable orifice of his
suspiciously muscular-for-a-sedentary-rich-boy-sloth carcass was evidenced in a
fashion too elaborate and insidious to be believed.

In short, The Gotham City Metropolitan Area's very own
vaginal-secretion-mad Marquis De Sade somehow believed it to be a good idea to
appear at his own Halloween Costume Ball Extravaganza dressed as none other
than "The Batman".

In attempting to re-imagine himself as the systemically
sickening vigilante and self-appointed public brow-beater accused by both local
and Federal Law Enforcement Authorities of reckless endangerment of citizens,
over 600 billion dollars of damage to public as well as municipal and private
property in our city along with the realization of any number of severely
extra-martial combat scenarios on rooftops, fire escapes, sewers and relatively
venerable facilities dedicated to medical and ameliorative care for the most
fragile amongst us (such as Arkham Asylum), Mr. Wayne has once again provided
us with new-found validation of the unerring truth of a terrible old adage:
youth is truly wasted on the young.

However, one would think that Mr. Wayne would be a great
deal old enough to utilize far more in the way of simple media savvy, insofar
as how he allows himself to be "marketed" as a public figure (or,
barring that, employ media consultants who would be able to figure it all out,
for him).

Alas, in the very tawdry world of one of the world's most
intellectually vapid and sordid "philanthropic Johnny Feel Goods",
perhaps telling The Emperor that he is leaving himself sociologically naked at
his own costume party would result in said costumed freak merely insisting that
he had nothing to wear, as his filthy and monstrously sullied ego is still in
the cleaners...or just out to lunch.

Incidentally, the two women flanking Wayne underneath his
well-toned arm-shanks are the lovely Barbara Gordon on the left (daughter of
our venerable Gotham City Police Commissioner, James Gordon) as the Queen of
Hearts...and on Wayne's left arm, stage right, is one Ms. Selina Kyle--a ruffian
woman with a feline quality about her that made this society writer feel very
catty toward her, in the most demonstrative fashion imaginable--dressed as an
inconsequential sort of 1960s era "flower child"...

Now, if someone could get me some "Poison Ivy", I
could heartily dispatch the whole lot of them (except the beautiful Ms. Gordon,
of course: just keep Jim Gordon's corrupt police goons away from my beautiful,
delicate and winsome journalistic features)...

Yes, this illustration is based upon the inestimable visage of that most engaging American erotic model of our age (who is, so often, comfortably compared to that lamentably deceased siren of an earlier age, Betty Page), Ms. Dita Von Teese.

As the vapidness of the remainder of the evening hastened upon the Lord Minotaur, Beliaetihignerhis -- the winged vassal residing in the service of Those Whom Are Never, Ever Named -- He reasoned that his time to dine upon fresh carrion from above had indeed arrived.

Over 2 of our millennium ago, Beliaetihignerhis had been recognized as a vizier and regent in waiting in the lower echelons of The Dark Kingdom Rarely Ever Seen Although Forever, Always Sought all as a result of selling his soul to forces and principalities which rule therein.

Before that event had occurred, however, He had been simply a hapless young beggar, penniless and distraught over the constant teasing and sexual, verbal and psychological bullying of his step-father. This woefully inadequate, tertiary father figure actually blamed him for the death of his equally pauper and mendicant mother.

At that time, the being known now within the inner circle of The Ever Unnamed, Evil Kingdom as Addendum Lord Beliaetihignerhis lived in the provinces of modern Romania, well before the beginning of the Crusades. He suffered his human "death" before he had turned seventeen years old, as the sacrificial knife he drove up to the hilt into the sleeping, furrowed brow of his stepfather glinted in the night air outside of the dank gypsy caravan they shared with the other dregs of the moment populating European society.

At that moment, the young boy unfastened the sacrificial knife from the cranium of his predatory stepfather, plunging it into his own sternum. As he did so, the boy recited an incantation given him by a supposedly kindly, bowed-over-with-age octogenarian gypsy man-witch with glee in his toothless, swaying gait and malevolence in his posture.

As the blood flowed from the self-inflicted wound, a dutifully dispatched netherrealm "healer" allowed the boy his wish: to soar above the vestiges of this corrupt, hostile sphere of cunning and depravity he had known as "The Earth of God"--not unlike the child Icarus of Greek Legend had fled from the mortal trappings of this planet.

The demon cooed with satisfaction, as the suddenly transformed, previously pitiable boy became a muscular, horned behemoth with the strength of 70 men and the emotional polarity of a 1000 forever burning, scathingly undeviating, wax-and-body-blistering suns.

However, when one does allow the legions of the other side of good to confer "treatises and favors" upon you, one must always consider the ransom and costs thereof: in his new state, the boy must always rend and rip the flesh of the most nubile and beautiful maidens imaginable, corrupting them wholly with the same beguiling menace used to entrap the original, holy couple at the beginning of time. The boy would even inherit the serpentine, coiling manifestation of The Great One Who Those Never Named Revere As Their Savage Lord of Chaos, which that irredeemably evil entity had used cunningly to deceive the Mother of The First Amongst Mankind into imbibing of the fruit of The Tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

Addendum Lord Beliaetihignerhis lives amongst us, ensnaring the hapless and those as hopeless as he had been, even when they may be in the midst of prayer.

He never loosens his icy grip, and never allows a single victim to abscond into the night. Their remains become just so much wisps of ivory and glinting husks of lifeless marrow as it is all collected in The Realms Those Who Are Wise Do Well Not To Enter. The memories of his victims will be mourned as passionately as the memory of that now-eternally transformed boy's mother remains consequential in Beliaetihignerhis' still intact, now almost antiquated-beyond-human-reckoning mind.

Even as the spirit of that kind woman watches disapprovingly at the fate of her only child from the safe vantage point of the bosom of the Lord of Light, who prepares presently to eviscerate and destroy both Beliaetihignerhis and the rest of his doomed lot in the upcoming, final battle.

For the past 6 centuries, the spiritual nation-states of these two fairies have been participating in the single most spectacularly bloody and senseless war of continual attrition in the history of the celestial mythos: The Cyclacimbaline Blood Feud.Unknown to most of humanity, the celestial nations of Cerisonsi and Piowia have been committed to a long struggle over which of these two alternative halves of the collective race of mythic organisms renowned popularly as either "fairies" or "Chimera" (under the former term, winged women of great prestige and ethereal power within the cosmos or --within the definitive guidelines of the latter term-- spiritual entities comprised of a wide variety of different anthropological, physical properties) would inevitably be allowed the responsibility to defend and turn humanity from it's own innate, warlike tendencies.In a cruel turn of a most malevolent and unhappy irony, even as the asexual, female inhabitants of the "fairy" nations of Cerisonsi and Piowia were created and designed by The Creator of The Universe to fulfill a mission of peace-keeping and spiritual entreaty for the mind and higher self of man, these otherwise comely and beautiful maidens from the mystic aperture of time and space have devolved into two continually aggressive, brutalization enacting camps. As both the Piowia Warrior drone on the right and the Cerisonsi Battle Fairy on the left share the exact same genetic heritage, the viewer would not have to make an extreme nor meticulous study of both entities in order to espy an unmistakable resemblance marking both species intractable from one another. The figure on the left is a junior member of the collective of Cerisonsi foot soldiers, fighting at over 15,000,000,000 strong. Even as her robust and most voluptuous figure could very well denote a gregarious state, she is in fact not motivated by any instincts with any remote resemblance to sexual stirring. She remains ever ready for the instant demonstration of battle prowess against any Piowia counterpart put within her crosshairs.Even as the viewer may well note the alleged superiority in the armament and battle-worn persona of the Cerisonsi Warrior Fairy, the viewer would be well advised to be averse to being led astray by the seemingly beatific in comparison visage of the Piowia warrior drone, to the right. In fact, many observers in the celestial realm not directly involved with the conflict record the Piowia Nation as being responsible for the conflict between it and the Cerisonsi, from the outset. Believing themselves to be far more beautiful, noble and sensitive in comparison to their admittedly more subtle and humble Cerisonsi kin, The Piowia allegedly initiated hostilities with the Cerisonsi by murdering the Cerisionsi High Priestess, Her Most Peaceable Servant and Slave to The Most High Creator, Mistress Cyclacimbaline circa the year 1423, A.D. Mistress Cyclacimbaline had advocated a direct unification between The Cerisonsi and The Piowia, as both camps understood that the beginning of a lengthy period of potential bloodshed and globally adverse human historical record would be impending as a result of the imminent traversing of the Atlantic Ocean by Christopher Columbus less than 59 years later.The Piowians insisted that the beloved priestess had taken her own life, as a result of her grief at being continually denied the ability to replicate either a proper mate or even a genetically identical progeny via asexual replication. After the still-mysterious murder (or, according to Piowian history, suicide) of Priestess Cyclacimbaline, tempers flared in the two now visibly divided halves of the "Fairy/Chimerian Kingdom". Cerisonsi Historical Documentation still records that the Piawians were attempting to nullify the impending peace treaty between the two nations by murdering Cyclacimbaline, forging a new campaign of genocide against the "defenseless" Cerisonsi while planning to also disavow the spiritual mandate to facilitate peace amongst humans--thus, in essence, scheming to take the helm of leadership amidst the homo-sapien species, as well.At the beginning of this conflict in the 15th century, the Piowia clans were at the very least as equally impressive a contingent of warriors and assembled mass, with over 23,000,000,000 soldiers and priestesses of their own.However, as the Cerisonsi have proven quite a good deal more adept at using and refurbishing human tools of warfare than the Piowia for use in the conflict, the Piowia have suffered extraordinary casualty losses, particularly over the past 2 centuries of the conflict.Proving ever resilient, however, the Piowian clans have been able to improve their techniques with sheer guerrilla warfare and innovative solutions to sky-fighting such as "Cloud - Trench Ambush" (Using Cloud cover in the skies as camouflage, while invading Cerisonsi Strongholds hidden from human view in the alternate dimension of the "Third heaven"--an invisible realm high in the stratosphere above Earth's ground level, described briefly by The Apostle Paul in The New Testament of The Holy Bible [2nd Corinthians Ch.12:1-5]), while utilizing more common, less ostentatious tools in opposition against the Cerisonsi Machine guns, Full Tang Swords with Blood Grooves and ergonomically shaped, multi-blade Scythes.Of course, as the Cerisonsi and The Piowia continue their mutual blood letting amongst one another, The Creator of The Universe's original mission statement for the two groups has been utterly lost. This resulted in Columbus Sailing errantly across The Atlantic Ocean in search for a new "spice route" to India, thus landing in what we know today as the modern "Americas" of The Caribbean and North America.However, The Creator of The Universe originally wished the Fairies to, among other things, serve as a guide for Columbus to his intended destination---or, if all else fails, kill both him and his entire crew---thus allowing the indigenous, still peaceful peoples of the Caribbean, North America and Africa the opportunity to develop more specialized, comparable arms for defense against European technological terror.As many peaceful people were terrorized and destroyed by the imminent arrival of Eurocentric, warlike tendencies, there is nothing left for either Humanity or The Fairies other than the ignominious and hastening desert of their own souls, the rapid dilapidation of their mutual planet in the face of technological devastation, pollution, mental corruption and all the violations that have put the entire ecosystem on the brink of collapse...just as, according to the commentary of some critics and possibly overly cynical observers of this calamity, The Creator originally intended.

All of the legends and fables which extol the virtuous lives and inordinately noble mental and spiritual mooring of the magnificently beneficent race known within our deeply troubled sphere as Fairies are variegated and, often, subject to ridicule.

However, in one regard, the legends about the pristine purity of the very soul and essence of the fairy have been all too accurate. This singular component of the socio-spiritual make-up of the conventional fairy's genetic coda centers around their complete lack of comprehension of the foibles inherent in evil, jealousy, envy and other duplicitous products of the dark side of the human imagination.

Fairies are, indeed, creatures of abject purity and joy with absolutely no ability to either divine or discern the rudiments of evil, as it exists with such proliferation in the homosapien species.

However, as fairies are finite in terms of their ability to survive the terrors of being physically accosted within the realities of our brutal time, their innate inability to make qualified judgments about the excesses of the morbid nature of human beings leaves them in a realm of severe, potentially life-threatening disadvantage.

In response, the higher powers which both control the very fabric of existence as well as observe and hold serene vigil over us all while lying within every atom, breath and emotion we encounter have provided these beautiful creatures sent into the foetid domain of man for the express purpose of enlivening our lives with equally divine "creatures" to facilitate their tasks.

In this illustration, we see two joyful fairies preparing to embark on a hazardous journey into the morally depreciated drudgery known as Modern 21st century society, with a strangely sanguine-seeming four-footed friend in tow.

As fairies lack the capacity to differentiate between potentially "dangerous" people and keenly spiritual "safe" people during their journeys into the terror-inducing nightmares of modern human life, The aforementioned Higher Powers have deemed fairies to be a lifeform possessed by a universal-throughout-their-species kind of "handicap".

Thus, the canine-esque animal being held on a spectral leash is the fairies' best friend, serving as the shepherd protecting the fairies from the "curse" of "blindness to evil."

Note the elongated antenna atop the head, as well as the series of different types of eyes lining along the inside of the tail of the animal. These accouterments are actually specialized sensors bestowed by the ancient creator upon what is generally known in human circles as an "Alaskan Malamute", so as to allow the animal the ability to discover at a moment's notice the true feelings, hidden agendas and potentially surreptitious notions lying in the hearts and minds of any human beings his two fairy masters may encounter.

"Violence has taken the most severe and preemptive precedent and statute of import, over the most salient and savory in comparison concepts of moral imperative and desire for human companionship, as the entirety of humanity continues to dissect itself with haste, resulting in an even more stark and ravenous dissimulation and darkened line of contrast separating the most oppressively poverty stricken...and us.

"We, the conclave of the Continental Confederation of The Absolutist Monarchy of Neo-New York, believe it our sole right and sovereign goal as the chosen Men and Women of the ever triumphant Materialism-Minded Godhead, to separate from the common human degenerates and vermin who live outside of our gleaming metropolises forevermore, irrespective of whether they be our former brethren of America or our just as accursed enemies wearing an Islamic Crown. We render this decree on this, the Year of our Lord-Mother 2334 A.D., thus ensuring our right to continued existence, racial purity, and enshrined apathy toward those whose lineage is not at pure as our own..."

------with the preceding words, the present day Island of Manhattan will declare its independence from the Continental United States, thus severing its inclusion in the entirety of American Life Forever on August 13th, 2334, in the preamble of it's newly created Island-wide Mandate and Constitutional Charter.

The inhabitants of Manhattan, still reeling from the fallout of America's 3rd straight Century of involvement in The Right War of The Way (known presently in our own time as "The War on Terror"), will become fatigued with the constant barrage of suicide bombers, intercontinental terror regimes, Islamic Fascist demagoguery and countless numbers of lost citizens as it will continue to be shown to the world at large as The Ever Shimmering City of Progress, Innovation and (in the opinion of chagrined, distressed New Yorkers) symbol of American Might, ever resolute in the face of those whom The Western World deemed "The Scourge of Capitalistic Creationism": The ever vilified Muslim Cyber-States of Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan and Meta-Mesopotamia.

As The Island of Manhattan will declare its sovereignty from the entirety of The Continental United States, it will also truncate all communication and further involvement with the other hallowed "satellite areas" comprising the other four boroughs of New York: Staten Island, The Bronx, Queens and Brooklyn.

In many cases, the Prime Judiciary and newly elected Governing Council of The Independent Cyber-State of Neo-New York will declare that any relatives of citizens of Neo-New York living in the other 4 boroughs would be henceforth rendered incapable of visiting the former Manhattan, thus curtailing any and all communication with denizens in regions as close as Long Island or Brooklyn.

In fact, The Neo-New York Governing Council will go so far as to demolish The Brooklyn and George Washington Bridges, the internal Subway Systems of the island, The Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island as well as all ability to connect to any realms beyond the island, ensuring that Neo-New York would be able to attempt to realize it's new vision of being what it's Governing Council will view as a "return to pure capital-minded Materialism and financial absolutism, as The one true God Mother, Father and Son intended."

After suffering through over 250 years of constant barrages of terror cells literally imploding in the most sensitive regions of Manhattan, the citizens of the newly christened Neo-New York will quite happily look forward to its new status of "honorable non-alignment" with The United States, which The Governing Council of Neo-New York will guarantee that it can enforce with its private stock of over 5000 Nuclear and bio-chemical long range missiles at the ready--all of which could be readily dispatched in a strike against Washington, in less than 3 minutes.

On February 14th, 2335, however, the United States Government will decide to enact a terrorist operation by Executive Order against the hierarchy of the Governing Council of Neo-New York, by sending a special forces lieutenant Colonel and particularly aggressive member of American/Christian Co-IntelPro named Abigail "Abilene Texas Tornado" Tommagrasin into the former Manhattan Island, in an effort to infiltrate one of the underground Nuclear Missile Silos hidden deep in the former subway stations and underground railway lines along the heart of the expansive, technologically impressive city.

Lieutenant Colonel Tommagrasin's mission will involve simply causing a cascade meltdown of the nuclear material processing and missile manufacturing facility, thus decimating the city and coating 35% percent of the American Eastern Seaboard with toxic, unimaginable levels of nuclear and biochemical radiation.

If successful, the President-Emperor in Washington along with his military advisers at The Octagon could be assured that Neo-New York would pay for it's treachery in daring to question the "spiritual or financial protocols" of The United States under their rule...while the ever vigilant and loyal Lieutenant Colonel Tommagrasin could look forward to entering into what her Marine Corp Military Clerics and Spiritual advisers at the Octagon will have assured her would be a beautiful and absolutely pressure free afterlife, wherein she was quite certain to be welcomed by a smiling phalanx of muscular, well-endowed, young and perfectly tanned men of exquisite beauty each capable of having sexual intercourse with her for 26-48 hours at a time without rest, coital re-enervation or any need for ceasing from the exertion.

Amidst the cacophonous turmoil inherent in the bristling roar of the captive pentium and AMD chipsets, the barely contained URL protocols and the ever mischievous and highly entertaining HTML code font script changes, Mistress Khwan Kaisang has held tightly onto the reins of her portion of the Cyberspace circus while not allowing the cyberchatters, naysayers and virus-uploaders sway the consistency of her web-ring's performance.

Serving as head moderator and administrator for a few different sites (including the brilliant group dedicated to illustrated reverence for the nude and semi-nude female form, Pinup-Heaven on yahoo groups and her own modeling site at http://www.khwan.com), Mistress Kaisang still allows boys and girls of all ages opportunity to fancifully attend to their imaginations, while disallowing the more lecherous free reign with their mechinations.

In the early portion of the last millennium, the medieval city of Valencia, Spain was ruled for some time by one Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, a renowned military General, legal arbiter and intellectual strategist who would come to be known during his military and monarchical career as El Cid.

El Cid's vivid style of erudition, scholarship and fierceness of warrior intuition all helped to make El Cid one of the primary tools of the Spanish Regent Lord, Alphonso IV, in his continual battles of attrition against the invasion of the Moorish hordes threatening to overthrow his kingdom in the second great millennium.

El Cid would face tribal intrigue at the hands of his fellow Spanish Lords, expulsion from the face of Alphonso IV, life as a ruthless military mercenary warlord, triumphant conqueror who would unite Valencia and it's neighboring communities under his own auspices and finally chief administrator and legal adjudicator over a territory which allowed both Christians and Muslims to live in unfettered harmony amongst one another while working side by side in his kingdom.

In fact, the very term "Cid" is actually derived from the archaic arabic term "Sayyid" meaning "Lord", a term which seems to be the outright personification of this most astonishing figure in history who became revered amongst his people as "one of them", in spite of his royal lineage.

In fact, El Cid proved resolutely determined to include and carefully consider the opinions and analysis of all of his soldiers and guards, before beginning any military excursion. This approach marked El Cid as both one of the most innovative military strategists to administer with a mindset directed toward co-operation and arguably History's most consistently successful master of warfare, martial subterfuge and trench-front enemy neutralization.

El Cid would enter into the realm of legend (as well as a peaceful reign and final rest) on July 10, 1099 A.D., while becoming Spain's official National Hero all the way until the collapse of Western Civilization as we know it today.

This Collapse will take place within our lifetimes.

After the end of all we now know, the final embers of life will indeed flutter back into some semblance of regularity. However, life will regularly become a struggle for subsistence and survival, as tribes of violent terror-seekers and thrill hungry throng about the desolate byways of the "future", seeking respite from their own petty cutthroat lives at the end of a gun.

However, genetic engineers will rely upon the still-surviving genetic codec of El Cid and his familial bloodline to create a new class of thoughtful leaders to help usher in a great new society, from the crushed shell of that terror fraught ulcer your great-grandchildren will call reality.

Her name will be El Ciderella, and she will wield a reasonably accurate facsimile of the Moorish-Hewn sword rendered and smelt with Damascus Steel wielded by El Cid himself, during his lifetime. El Ciderella will be given explicit instructional coda which will be embedded in the neurological pathways of her DNA, ensuring that she will behave as though her blade is "a shimmering leaf of greatness and potency" which must never leave her side, for fear of losing her very essence. Only the bravest and most well schooled warrior can ever hope to test her in battle while she wrestles with her soul and her lineage...and any man able to best her in a fight will be the man she marries.

In the shock that will be the next millennial sunrise and dawn, only the strong, loving and most determined will see the beginning of Humanity's next epoch, being born and built up for the creating

First founded circa 1643, Bridgeport, Connecticut had once been one of the
great social and economic hubs of the ever-flourishing American Northeast.

From its bustling, early days as a centralized seaport
and industrial Mecca nestled within the Original 13 British Colonies of the
North American Eastern Coastline of the new world, Bridgeport, Connecticut
enjoyed an extensive period of wealth and social
plenty which continued without restraint over the course of 3 centuries.

However, the history of this city gets cloudy, somewhere in the middle of the
20th Century.

My name is Fantaisha Clivics, and I had been born
in Bridgeport, Connecticut in the year 2175 A.D…I think.

The Bridgeport, Connecticut I know and loathe is
not a city that anyone with any working memory within a 70 mile circumference
of it ever remembers or fondly obsesses over with nostalgia, compassion or
sensitivity.

The Bridgeport, Connecticut I’ve lived in for the
entirety of my life is nothing more than a gleaming relic of sulfurous
mendacity and caustic woe, which has left me and everyone else I’ve ever known
a victim of forces beyond our capacity to understand or grapple with.

Earlier, I mentioned a sort of “black hole” in the
historical narrative of Bridgeport, CT. somewhere in the last quarter of the
20th century: the old ones who have been here their entire lives claim that,
sometime in the 1960s, some sort of social upheaval began which forced the
white people to almost utterly abandon Bridgeport because of some strange
occurrence that they refer to as the “Civil Rights Intrusion”.

Allegedly, this intrusion had been made by my
ancestors as they arrived in this area to claim some new, liberated piece of
American society. However, the old ones of today claim that this led to the
beginning of wide-spread crime, destitution and civil unrest that the city
never even remotely recovered from.

However, the old ones are wrong. I know that for a
fact. I taught myself how to read, just a little. I struggled with the old,
paper-bound books from years past that so many people of the 22nd century have
allowed to simply, slowly rot in this filthy madhouse.

Once, Bridgeport, Connecticut had been a popular tourist
attraction and business capital, as it had housed the headquarters for
divisions of (apparently) important and influential companies with names I
don’t recognize like “Columbia Records” and “General Electric”.

However, that would all seem to be in the dim,
shadowy past: I can’t imagine this city ever being a place people wanted to
live in. Today, in the year 2198 A.D., Bridgeport has no real memory or
livelihoods worth engaging at length. Our architecture, culture and living
spaces are both far too open and a good deal too heavily populated to allow for
free thought or too much good manners.The only thing that I had read about that made any
sense (and may explain the way Bridgeport, Connecticut fell into so much in the
way of evil cruelty and daily dread) had been stories I’ve read about a man
named P.T. Barnum. This man named Barnum had owned something called a “Circus”,
and he lived in Bridgeport, became something called a “mayor” for this city
while running this circus thing, and brought a great deal of money and fame to
the city in his day.I also learned that he had been a bit of a
con-artist, who said that “there’s a sucker born every minute.”It all makes sense, now. After reading how, as late
as the year 2013, Bridgeport, Connecticut was both the most densely populated
city in the State of Connecticut, the fifth largest city in a region that they
called back then “New England” as well as one of the poorest cities in the
entire United States, I could see how people in this City of Bridgeport,
Connecticut were fools then, and they never stopped being suckers. Never.
Stopped.I am a black woman. Men say I’m beautiful. Men are
full of shit. I live in Bridgeport. I lost my virginity to my own step-father,
before I even knew how to walk well. The only enjoyment I have ever had in this
life is being able to ride my Hover-Hog above the horrors of this dank city
that the government won’t allow me or anyone else born here to leave, under
threat of imprisonment…or worse.It never made sense to me. I learned how to use
chemicals I’d found in the water supply and apply it to my hair, so that it
would resemble something else I’d read about called “dread-locks”. I don’t care about the threat anymore. I’ve loaded
explosives onto my Hover-hog, and I’m going to ride to the edge of the city
limits, where the government stops all of us…what were those terms I’d read…
“Niggers, Spics and Poor White Trash”….well, all of those—all of us, all of
me-- from getting to a better place.I grit my teeth, as I wait for the large Patrol
vehicle high and behind me to veer toward me. I say that the final blast will
be beautiful. I’m not full of shit. I know more about this city than the old
ones, but I’m not even sure how old I am.This sucker’s about to die, any minute.